2004-06-06

Etch My Dreams in Gold

Etch my dreams in gold ink of the past. Time to clear my mind and my soul is stripped of the elaborate pain, becoming austere.

The feeling that you can wake up with in the morning--like gold, fresh and new, and never before seen. It's refreshing like the cool raindrops that fall in the summer as they strike the windshield. From the inside, looking out through the foggy window they fall silently like autumn leaves. The muted wind comes and sways the trickling water to move from place to place--a storm in perfect harmony.

There can also be wind chimes that accompany that feeling which is so strange. Nothing is there to dissatisfy you, and you become lost in that misty morning hope of sunshine spilling through the leaves. Crisp cotton blankets that are ruffled and disheveled in the most pleasing way, and I can lay there smelling the coffee and listening to the birds--wondering--how I will behave today.

Do you remember what hope was? A thing of the past, like perfection. Only hope has a certain way with the spirit, that it intoxicates it with its presence, leaving it craving more. Desperately, you reach a climax where you let yourself crumble...

I keep thinking of spinning in a circle, carefree laughter, fishing, and the distinct feeling that is born with every sunrise--only at sunrise. It begins to grow stale with the afternoon heat, but in the crisp uncertainty and freshness of the morning's embrace, it's there, pressing into your heart as it skips a beat.

That's why I said to etch my dreams in gold--the feeling is new and green and fresh and beautiful, and fragile, and so much more that simple words could not possible be benevolent enough to describe.

aeka at 1:05 a.m.